“Um,” I said.
Instinct—andmaybeworry—had me sitting up. Or attempting to.
Placing his hand to my sternum, Grim shoved me flat onto my back again, leaving me no time to ask the question I already craved answering the hard way.
The question of whether he really was going to fit…
“Don’t worry,” he said, my misgivings obvious in my actions. “We’ll take it slow,” he assured me in his human voice, breath playing on my lips as he guided himself to my opening. “Until you beg me for more,” vowed that darker voice as he kissed me, open and hungry, tongue seeking mine ahead of his lips, those last two ominouswords emanating from his being rather than being formed by his otherwise-occupied mouth.
With another whimper, that buzzing voice sending my eyes rolling back again, I clutched him by the back of the neck, holding on to whatever I had left of my dear life as he pressed into me.
I hitched in pleasure—and in fear—as I took the first inch, eyes wide, lids fluttering. And even that much brought with it a delightful burn of pain-tinted pleasure.
“Fuck,” he gasp-muttered, wincing, his voices twisting into one another again, arms trembling as they held him above me, the one on my right shifting to bones before, just as swiftly, morphing back again.
I took his face in my hands, relishing this deterioration of his command over himself, the little he’d been operating under until now.
I loved him in control. Telling me what to do. Warning me about what I was in for before following through on whatever he wanted to do to me. At the same time, the thought that I had him struggling this way, fighting his appetite, battling the buried parts of himself that must have lain dormant for so long, had me teetering again on the edge of ecstasy.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled between his teeth as we fast ran out of room. “I think this is going to kill me. Butfuck, I’ve never been more ready to die.”
He said this, but he wasn’t really daunted.
“Please,” I said, even if I wasn’t sure what—exactly—I was begging for.
More. Everything. For this never to end.
“Breathe,” he commanded. I did. He gave me a moment—just one—then, impossibly, between exhales, he continued his intrusion,makingroom.
“God,” I managed when he just kept coming, stretching me, filling me.
I opened my legs wider for him, as wide as I could, determinedto take all of him, the sharp burn consuming me in the best way possible. But just when I thought Icouldhandle the rest, that’s when he paused.
He drew back an inch. Panicked, I caught him around the shoulders before he could escape any farther.
“Grim… please.”
“Please what?” The smallest smile ghosted across his face before he kissed me, like his name on my lips was something he wanted to catch the taste of.
“Please don’t stop,” I pleaded.
“Is it too much?” he asked, words cool as he traced my bottom lip with a once-more-skeletal thumb, his hair falling soft around us, tickling my cheeks. I moved under him—tried to—wanting to win back the lost ground, but his skeleton hand grabbed me behind one knee, his grip tight as he held me still.
Those lips shifted to the shell of my ear. “Answer me.”
“I love it,” I whispered.
He froze. Then he took in a shuddering breath as though I’d just seriously shaken his ability to hold himself at bay.
“That isnotwhat I asked,” he admonished, speaking slow. “I want to know if it’s too much.”
“Yes,” I said honestly, my own voice tight with truth—and hope. “But I don’t want you to stop.”
An eternity seemed to pass before he replied, though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.
“Good girl,” he said, the words falling out of him like he already knew the answer anyway. Knew and agreed. “Because I’m not planning to stop until you’re so wrecked you barely remember your own name.”
He slammed into me, hips snapping against mine.
